Who Hunts The Hunter
by Atrox
Summary: After the Nights of the Blood-Red Moon, a new Prince rules Chicago. But there are a few odds and ends he needs to take care of, not least the daughter of one of the former Prince's Childer.


Who Hunts The Hunter  
  
Stalking the young mortal is almost too easy. I do not have the Hidden Ones' powers of obfuscation, nor am I able to command the shadows as the LaSombra are wont to do to hide their approach. Truth be told, I need neither. Long years of practice could not but make me an expert at moving stealthily. Thus it is that I find it easy enough to follow this particular young lady from her motel to the park, content to observe and learn. She is careful not to be followed, as careful as only one who is used to fight the Damned can be. It matters not. Contrary to the information she has received from her sources, there are no Kindred here in Lincoln Park. None, that is, but I. It is just as well. She has chosen to be the enemy of the Kindred. It might surprise those who knew her before the darkness touched her life, but she is quite dangerous to her foes. This young lady, barely more than a girl, has ended better than half a dozen of our kind on the East Coast, one of whom has been a Primogen. While this does not mean nearly as much in the Americas as it would in the Old World, it still remains an impressive feat, especially considering that she did not have help in her hunt. The successes she has enjoyed until this night suggest her to be one of the more capable 'merely human' hunters. She is very definitely one of the very best not affiliated with any kind of organisation. I believe she has had contact with both the Special Affairs Department of the FBI and the Holy Office of the Inquisition. The same sources suggest that she has so far managed to avoid being co-opted by either of those two rather possessive organisations. Yes, the young lady does bear watching. Of course, I know her antecedents rather well, too. Lodin, then Prince of this City of Winds, embraced her father. Because he was of an incurably evil bent and drunk with newly found power, he murdered his wife, her mother, with glee and turned on his two daughters. Although they escaped him at that time, he quickly recaptured the younger one. This one, the elder, managed to flee town and disappear. I had initial suspicions when a Kindred of Boston turned up decapitated, a note taped to his skull that read "See you, Daddy". The second Cainite destroyed thus confirmed it for me. Yet unbeknownst to her, she will be too late. A week ago, during the nights of the blood-red moon, her father picked a fight with a local Gangrel who calls himself John Doe. Doe apparently objected to the former's choice of vessels, or maybe to his choice of games. In the end, the precise reason for the quarrel mattered little. As I heard the story told, Schumpeter, not one to ever back down from what he thought was his inferior, nor one for diplomacy, went for a shotgun. Doe, faced with a threat that was potentially quite lethal, tore his head off. It has been my experience that Gangrel will do that, if threatened. It is also my opinion that Schumpeter, disgrace to our Clan that he was, received no more than his just deserts.  
  
I step from the shadows, putting my feet to the ground audibly. Yes, after centuries of practice in moving silently, it does take conscious effort not to do so. She turns, easing into a fighting stance recognisable only to the experienced eye. I stop several metres distant, clearly out of range of either of us. She keeps her eyes averted; yet there is no hint of shyness in her posture. She is simply avoiding the dreaded Vampire's Gaze, our mesmerising stare. Little does she know that I, unlike most Kindred, have no need for eye contact to affect her mind. Nor, at this time, do I have any desire to bend her will to mine. It is something she can hardly know. Nor would she believe me if I told her so. The night brightens in my perception as I employ the gleaming eyes. She sees it, and understands its import.  
  
"What do you want, bloodsucker?" She spits.  
  
I want to bristle at the insult. The desire to repay her insolence in pain and terror flashes hot in my cold heart. I refuse to listen to that familiar voice.  
  
"Be at ease, young lady. I bear you no ill will. I have come to tell you of a death."  
  
"Why should I believe you? Why should I believe a single word one of you monsters says?"  
  
She inches closer. Her intent is clear. So is her hostility. Petite though she is, I intuit strength in her movements, a strength that is not merely physical. She is a very serious threat to neonates and ancillae, maybe even to some who pass as Elders in the Americas. But I am not any of these. I am a true Elder in the fullness of my power; even in my breathing days, I have found it needful to contend with far more capable foes than young Evelyn. After all, I have spent the majority of my time on this Earth in eras when a sharpened, fire-hardened length of wood might genuinely have been considered a viable weapon of war. As if in response to my thoughts, a stake appears in her left hand. There are now barely two paces separating us. She is easing into range slowly, but deliberately. Her courage in doing this is admirable.  
  
"You are acting rashly, Evelyn. I am not nearly as easily overpowered as you believe. Nor is there a need for violence."  
  
"I've sworn to kill you all, bloodsucker. You're gonna die now, the others later."  
  
She lunges. I allow the stake to hit where my heart should be. It splinters when she tries to drive it into a body grown almost to the hardness of stone. There is some pain - I am not completely invulnerable, and she delivers the strike with more power than I have anticipated - but it is easily ignored. Her eyes widen in shock. Before she can recover I take her right wrist in a grip of iron and force her to her knees, then step around to complete the arm-lock. My fingers become claws as my left hand locks on her throat. I can feel the pulse racing in her carotid artery, can smell the sweet taste of her terror, the delicate fragrance emanating from her veins. It is a heady smell, one that could never fail to arouse any Kindred. But I am fortunate; in these circumstances, her blood will be useless to me. Thus, I am less aroused as many another might be. I am also well in control of my sitis sanguinis.  
  
"I am not interested in killing you, Evelyn. For if I was . . ."  
  
"I get the message, bloodsucker. Doesn't mean I don't want you dead."  
  
"Your father has been destroyed, Evelyn."  
  
"What!"  
  
"He picked the wrong victim for his bullying. You knew him better than I. It was his way."  
  
"You trying to console me, Vampire? I'm happy he bought it. Don't change a thing, though. You're next."  
  
I pull her close to me, clawed fingers tightening on her throat and kiss her lightly on the neck. She shudders. I feel her swallow. To her credit, she does not try to free herself. She understands her situation too well to do anything that might entice me to subdue her in a more forceful manner.  
  
"To answer you, yes, I did intend to console you. As for your desire to kill me, I should think the life you ought to be worrying about is your own . . . and maybe your sister's."  
  
"Marilyn! What've you done to her?"  
  
Now, she strains to break my grip, but it is futile. Even in my breathing days, I have been strong, as any warrior of those days had to be. That strength has increased tenfold in undeath. No mortal is capable of besting me in a contest of strength.  
  
"I have done nothing to her. In truth, she is waiting for you in the local Hilton under your mother's maiden name."  
  
I let her go. She whirls away, eyes narrow.  
  
"That's a trap."  
  
"I have no need to entrap you. You are in my power already. For now, I choose to allow you to live."  
  
I throw her an envelope, which she catches left-handed.  
  
"Leave this city. Ensure the safety of your sister. Do not return, ever."  
  
"And if I do, you'll kill me. Some choice."  
  
"You have chosen to practice a trade known for its high risks. The safety of all the Kindred of this city is my responsibility. You are a threat to that safety of theirs. If this does not remove you, I shall find other, less pleasant means."  
  
"Trying to frighten me off, bloodsucker? Won't work. I'm -"  
  
"You are nothing!" I thunder, exerting the full force of my personality, of my presence. "For two thousand years, I have been hunter and hunted, predator and prey. I have seen and used and resisted more ploys and gambits and traps than you will ever know!"  
  
She pales. For the first time in our encounter, she dares to meet my eyes.  
  
"Overconfidence is the only thing that allows your kind to destroy mine. And that is the sole reason I treat you as a real threat; if I did not you may become one. But now?"  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"I've sworn to fight you bloodsuckers. This isn't a game I can just quit."  
  
"You have your sister to worry about. She is still a minor, and you are her legal guardian. I have made certain that the two of you will come into your father's estate. I have also taken the liberty of converting most of it into U.S. Treasury bills, which realised a tidy profit for you. That, and the money I just gave you, should remove most mundane worries for the foreseeable future."  
  
"Trying to buy me. The oldest trick in the book. You bastard."  
  
"Second oldest. And trust me on this, I know. I knew that book's author." I correct with more calm than I truly feel. "However, should you persist in your intent, I shall grant you a week to regulate such affairs as you may have. If you are still here by the end of that week, I shall hunt you down and destroy you."  
  
Her hands clench and unclench as if spasming. Suppressed fury shines in her eyes, promising a painful, lingering death, should I ever be in her power. Such hatred. Such love for her sister battling her baser emotions. Such capacity for true feeling. I feel envy for the depth of her passion, until I remember that the living are not alone in this.  
  
"You're not giving me a choice. I agree to your terms. For now. But I will be back."  
  
She turns to leave, but freezes when she hears my voice.  
  
"Room 302. There is a doctor with her at this time. If you so wish, contact with the Kindred who destroyed your father can be arranged."  
  
Still facing away, she shakes her head.  
  
"He stole my kill. I'll see him pay for that."  
  
"Be warned, Evelyn. You have already survived longer than most of your fellow hunters. You are skilled, and resourceful, and lucky. But your skills have limits, and so do your resources. Do not, for your sister's sake, push your luck too far. It will run out. It already has."  
  
"We'll see about that."  
  
I let her leave. There are, in theory, things I might do to alter the course of her life. But is it meet that I should? Certainly, if she chooses to continue her quest to hunt the Kindred, she will most likely die. Yet she is mortal. Death is her curse and her blessing regardless of what she does, the single inevitable event all of them - and most of the Kindred as well, no matter how much they wish to deny it - must meet in the end. And as a wise man once said, the When of one's death matters far less than the How. 


End file.
